Fires of Prometheus

by Michael G. Thomas

  The guard put the paper back into his pocket before sliding the barred door shut. One of the new prisoners, a broad shouldered and muscular man grabbed the bars and shouted back.

  “Why would I want to join your pissing programme?”

  The guard turned back to him. “It’s your choice, just remember, nobody lasts more than two weeks in the red group. Do well and get out, or die, that’s the choice,” he replied before starting to laugh.

  The man continued shouting at them but they turned away and walked off to join another group of their comrades.

  “Hey!” Spartan tried to gain the attention of the new prisoner.

  “What?” barked the man, as he turned and stared back at him, his look was one intended to intimidate but it did nothing of the sort.

  Spartan glanced at him, noticing the tattoos running up his arms. On one arm was the Army crest, or at least that is what it looked like from where he was sat. The man was bare-chested and a number of marks and scars indicated either he had a lot of medical work or more likely he was a combat veteran.

  “You military?”

  “Yeah, Army Alpha Team, why?”

  “I thought so, you don’t have the brains for the marines!” laughed Spartan.

  “Marines?” answered the man with a little disdain before realising he was talking to a marine. The rivalry between the Army, Navy and Marines was well documented and more violent than even that between the Marine Corps units themselves.

  “I thought I was the only Confed man here.” He marched over and to sit down next to Marcus. As he came closer Spartan could make out the Alpha logo on his bicep. It wasn’t a group he knew much about other than that they often competed with the Marine Recon units at some of the inter-service athletic events. At least, that is what he remembered from basic training, it wasn’t like he had been in the Corps long enough to participate in anything like that.

  “My name’s Claus, Corporal 14th Colonial Regiment, Alpha.”

  “How did you get here?” Marcus asked him.

  “We were part of the advanced units deployed on board a suspected hijack near Khimaira. It was a liner, supposedly over three thousand passengers and crew. We boarded the ship and found Zealots in control, about thirty of them. We cleared the decks and regained control of the ship, that’s when we found them.”

  “Found who?” Spartan asked him.

  “The passengers. Every single one was inside some kind of liquid capsule. We opened one, the passenger died in less than a minute. I don’t know what was going on but there must have been a thousand of them. We hacked the log and the navigation computer to get intel. The ship was being controlled remotely via a computer system but it locked us out before we could get a trace. It seemed they were been shipped off to Orthrus though.”

  “Orthrus, they seceded along with Kerberos right?” asked Marcus.

  “Yeah, well, from what I’ve heard half the planets in the System have seceded. The video reports we saw said Kerberos, Prime, Orthrus and Agora have all lifted the finger to the Confederacy. That’s all the big worlds gone.”

  “I don’t get it, why were they at Khimaira to start with? It’s just a gas giant.”

  General Rivers cut in. “There is more to it than that, Khimaira is surrounded by mining and research stations. In many ways it shares a lot with Prometheus apart from the planet’s surface being completely inhospitable. There are platforms in the lower atmosphere, low enough to provide a modicum of gravity, they’re more like floating cities than stations.”

  The soldier appeared more relaxed now as he sat in the company of other veterans. There was something about him though that made Spartan, and to a lesser extent General Rivers, uneasy. Maybe it was just the Army’s inbuilt machismo or maybe it was something else. Claus noticed Spartan staring at him and he automatically glared back.

  “Hey, haven’t I seen you guys before?” he asked as he glanced at the men sideways. Then, as if a light had been flicked on inside his head he recognised Marcus. “Yeah, I know. You’re the guys they fingered on Kerberos, for the coup right?”

  “Fingered isn’t exactly the word I would use.”

  “Yeah, they fingered us alright, it was a serious set up. We were part of the security detail and tried to stop the massacre. In the end we got framed for the whole thing, why do you think they dumped us here instead of going to trial?” added Spartan.

  The group fell silent for a few seconds when the soldier broke the uncomfortable silence. “Whatever, it doesn’t really matter now, does it? We’re all screwed in this dump!”

  General Rivers turned to the bars and looked out into the open area to check what was happening. He had heard several groups being sent out to the work projects but so far none had come back and one should have returned in the last hour. He thought about mentioning it before spotting a small party arriving at the far end. He couldn’t see who they were but there were at least twenty of them. He turned back to Claus.

  “You didn’t say how they caught you?”

  The soldier put his chin in his hand for a moment as he thought back to whatever calamity had befallen him. Like the rest of the prisoners they had all experienced a variety of horrors and his must have been of a similar nature. He took a deep breath before turning back to the General.

  “It is pretty simple. The escorts for the liner must have been away on another raid because about six hours into our operation we received a distress call from our frigate and then nothing. The bastards must have destroyed her when they came back. All I know is twenty minutes later a dozen gunboats and small vessels docked with the liner and unloaded about a hundred personnel including ten of those Biomechs. You ever fought one of those things?” he asked with a genuine look of horror on his face.

  “Yeah, once or twice,” said Spartan as he threw a glance over to his comrades.

  “We held them for nearly an hour, in the end we were down to side arms when they sent in those things. We tried to hold them off but they are just too much. Only me and one other guy survived, the rest they tore apart, literally before our eyes. They must have knocked us out or drugged us or something, next thing I know I’m being dumped on this rock.”

  “Same story for all of us then. Where is your partner?”

  The soldier shrugged, not answering Marcus, he looked around at the rest of the group and then back to the three men. “So what’s the deal then, they interrogating us or something?”

  Spartan pointed to a column of about thirty people marching out and towards one of the opening doors.

  “Not sure yet. Most of the people coming in are being sent off to work on various projects expanding this place. From what I’ve seen it is massive, truly massive. They are working on big projects here.”

  “Like what?”

  “Good question, something to do with resources for the enemy. Food, supplies, weapons, equipment or maybe just a simple indoctrination and training centre for new soldiers.”

  “Like a factory for Zealots?”

  “Interesting, it could be or maybe machines or even ships,” replied General Rivers.

  “Ships? You think they could build something like that and not be noticed?”

  “Why not, Claus? They’ve managed to slip thousands of people off colonies and ships while our forces are busy fighting insurgents throughout the sector,” suggested Spartan.

  “Yeah, convenient that, ain’t it?” said a suspicious Marcus.

  The familiar buzz of the cell’s door being opened drew their attention back to the newly arrived guards. It was impossible to tell if they were the ones from earlier, apart from slight variations in their sizes they all looked the same. They all wore the same clothing and equipment.

  “It is time, come with us.” The first guard pointed his rifle at the prisoners.

  One by one they marched out until their column moved in the same direction as before. This time their number was larger, bolstered by the new prisoners. As they were leaving two stayed in the cell, one a man
in his late forties and a woman in her early twenties who lay down sobbing. The woman had already survived the first encounter with the Biomechs, but from her reaction she wasn’t stable enough to go through the same situation again. One of the guards moved in and pointed his weapon at them.

  “Get out, now!”

  The two ignored him and stayed still.

  “One warning. Either you get out and join them or you suffer punishment!”

  The man turned to the guard and took a step towards him. “I don’t care! What’s the point, we go we die, we stay, we live a bit longer, then die!”

  “Not anymore. New rules from the Governor, anybody refusing a direct order is in violation of compound rules and will be transported to the surface, immediately!”

  The man started to become agitated, either from the frustration of the situation or because he was trying to get himself to the stage where he was confident enough to attack. The guard must have sensed the danger as he gave a hand signal to one of the other guards who moved up, shotgun at the ready.

  “What’s it gonna be? Your choice.”

  The man looked back to the woman who was still sobbing. “You coming or staying?”

  The woman sniffed a few times and then stood up. She had the look of someone who had given up thinking and decided to do something. The man looked at her for a moment before looking back to the guards.

  “Okay, we’re coming,” he said and started to walk slowly forwards.

  One of the guards kept his weapon trained on the man, the other two stepped back to watch the rest of the group. It was a simple mistake but the price would be deadly. The man had moved no more than three steps when he lunged at the guard. Taken completely by surprise the guard was able to loose off a single gunshot that missed by a wide margin before the man was on him. As the two crashed to the ground the woman screamed and ran towards the fallen pair. Spartan spotted the commotion and tried to move to help but Marcus firmly held him.

  “Get back, now!” shouted closest standing guard.

  He was already aiming his weapon at the two on the ground but was unable to obtain a clear shot. At the same time the woman rushed forward. It was more a reaction than any kind of aimed shot but the guard easily blasted her with his shotgun. The thermal charge burned through her shoulder and part of her chest, killing her in seconds as she dropped down. On the ground the two men struggled and by some miracle the prisoner was able to draw the man’s side arm. With a single shocking blast the round entered the guard’s temple at point blank range and sent blood and gore across the floor.

  Spartan tried to struggle free but Marcus pointed into the distance at armed men rushing towards them. He was right but it didn’t make Spartan feel any better. He wanted to help and he wanted to get off this rock. Six or seven of the group pushed away and grabbed at the nearest guards. One was shot immediately before the closest were overpowered and more weapons taken.

  “Take cover!” shouted Marcus as bullets started tearing across the open space between the reinforcements and the struggle outside the cell.

  Spartan, Marcus, Claus and Rivers all sheltered down behind the large metal housing near the sliding door. It wasn’t a minute too soon either as two rounds struck the thick iron and ricocheted off into the distance. A series of short blasts indicated the rebels had killed the guards on the ground and were now engaged in a deadly firefight. Through the section other prisoners screamed and ran for cover, desperately trying to avoid the crossfire that had already struck two of their number.

  “What are we gonna do, man?” shouted Marcus over the sound of the gunfire.

  Two more of the rebels were struck down to leave just five who fired from kneeling or standing positions. Double their number of guards moved towards them at a quick walk, their body armour deflecting the odd inaccurate round as they advanced.

  ”They’re getting canned out there. This could be our chance,” said Spartan as he pushed away from Marcus.

  “Spartan, use your head!” said General Rivers with a stern tone.

  “We can do this!” He then rushed out into the open towards where two of the felled fighters lay. One was unarmed but the other carried one of the guard’s rifles. It wasn’t a model Spartan recognised but it was simple enough. He twisted the safety and aimed at the advancing guards. Remembering his training he exhaled and aimed slightly low. The first round slammed the butt hard into his shoulder and he was surprised at the kick. More importantly though the round had struck the nearest guard in the chest and he was already staggering back. Thinking he might have only a few rounds before they returned their fire, he aimed at the man to the left of the group and then spray a long burst of at least forty rounds before the gun was empty. Two of them managed to reach just a short distance away before the overwhelming fire forced them back. He managed to hit all of the nearest guards, killing three and sending the rest back into cover.

  “Jesus Christ, man, you got a death wish or something?” shouted Claus in a mixture of surprise and admiration. “Throw me a piece!”

  Spartan kept low and sprinted to the bodies of two of the fallen guards. Both were well armoured though Spartan was a little surprised at the variety of equipment being used. He would have expected more uniformity, not that it mattered right now. Rummaging around he managed to find two shotguns and a pair of pistols. He thrust one into his belt and slid the rest of the weapons across the door to Marcus, Claus and Rivers before pulling himself back into cover. Resting the empty rifle on the floor he pulled out the pistol and slid the magazine out, checking it before slipping around the corner with the pistol drawn and pointing in the direction of the enemy.

  Throughout the prison area any of the prisoners who weren’t locked away were either cowering behind any cover they could find or running away from the sounds of the battle. The seven remaining guards stayed in their cover though their shooting was sporadic and inaccurate.

  “If we’re going to do this we’ll do it properly, understood?” shouted General Rivers.

  Marcus nodded, quickly followed by Claus.

  “Spread out, keep low and close the distance. We don’t have the time or the ammo for a drawn out fight.”

  Marcus ducked down and then rushed out into the open and past a group of people hiding behind upturned metal boxes and crates. He dropped down and squeezed off three rounds at the guards before waving for the rest to follow. Spartan spotted two of the guards trying to move back to find better cover and managed to hit one in the leg, forcing him down. His comrade left him bleeding, running back as fast as he could.

  “Push them back!” shouted Spartan as he stood from his cover and advanced on the larger group of guards. As they lifted up from cover to shoot he fired single, carefully aimed shots. He wasn’t aiming to kill, more aiming to keep them pinned down so they could get closer. He had already covered half the distance before Claus got his hands on another weapon. It was one of the dropped rifles and without hesitating he started to put heavy fire down on the guards. His shooting was fast and precise as another guard quickly went down. As he fell a pair of hands lifted in the air in a plea to surrender, this was quickly followed by the other six. Spartan kept his weapon up high, ready to shoot at a moment’s notice and then rushed forwards to the guards. As soon as he reached them he disarmed the first one, taking his rifle, placing his own pistol back in his belt. Marcus moved towards him and did the same. Claus stayed where he was, rifle raised and looking out for signs of the inevitable response by the enemy.

  “Don’t kill us!” whimpered the nearest guard.

  “Kill you, what do you think we are, animals?” asked an angry Marcus.

  “Wait, something isn’t right.” General Rivers moved up, checking the guards. He stopped in front one of them looking at him carefully.

  “How long have you been a guard in this place?”

  “About an hour.”

  “What?” Marcus shouted.

  “Yeah, I thought so,” said the General. “Strip!”

/>   The guards looked at each other in surprise, unsure what to do. Spartan, still not grasping what the General was getting at lifted his own weapon and pointed it at the heads of the nearest two men.

  “You heard him!”

  The guards needed no further encouragement and quickly started to remove the webbing and armour though in their haste several of them managed to entangle themselves in the gear.

  “What the hell?” laughed Marcus at the scene that was rapidly turning to a farce.

  As the first man finally removed his body armour the laughing stopped. Underneath he wore prison fatigues and wore the same red band that they wore. Spartan lowered his rifle and walked up closer, holding the arm so that the band was in plain view.

  “Why are you wearing this?”

  The man started to stutter and Spartan turned his head at a slight angle, evidently unimpressed with the response he was receiving. Two more of the guards had removed their armour and exhibited the same clothing and red bands.

  “Look, we’re prisoners from the fabrication section. We’ve been down here for nearly a year. We finished work last week, they said we could join the rest in the factories or do one year’s guard work to earn freedom.”

  “Horseshit, man, no way did that happen!” Claus swore as he moved forward and punched one of the men hard in the stomach.

  “Hey, back off, now!” demanded General Rivers. “Fabrication section, what is that?”

  They stood in the centre of the prison compound a number of the prisoners emerged from cover and wandered over to see what was happening. Many more stayed hidden, experience showing them that doing anything other that what they were told usually ended in swift punishment. Misaki stepped forward and bent down, placing her hands on one of the dropped rifles. She lifted it up and pointed it directly at the guards. Her face was contorted with anger and for a second it looked like she was going to open fire on them. Before she was able to make a decision a loud clunk came from the far end of the open hall. Everyone, including the captured guards, turned to the direction of the sound. With a mighty hiss the large metal doors at the end opened to reveal three darkened shapes. They stood there, silent but terrifying as the loudspeaker system switched on.